


The Scandalous Hobbit Letters

by Porphyrios



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU_Changed BOFA, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo is So Done, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Fights, Hobbits, Jealousy, M/M, POV Bilbo Baggins, Pining, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Suicidal Thoughts, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porphyrios/pseuds/Porphyrios
Summary: Personal Letter, late Third AgeThis letter is from Prince Bilbo, consort to Prince Kili of the Line of Durin (from their marriage in 2942 TA until Prince Bilbo's decline and death in 3018 TA after his surrender of the One Ring).  As is known, Prince Kili died immediately thereafter in the Final Goblin War before the Gates of Erebor, fighting at the side of King Fili.  This letter, though personal in nature, contains one of the few written personal accounts we have for the reclaiming of Erebor by King Thorin I, Oakenshield.  As such, it is an invaluable historical document.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Kíli
Comments: 17
Kudos: 125





	The Scandalous Hobbit Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chrononautical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/gifts).



> This work is for @Chrononautical, who gave everyone such an amazing Kili with 'Road to the Garden' that I wanted to offer something in return.

_Personal Letter, late Third Age_

_This letter is from Prince Bilbo, consort to Prince Kili of the Line of Durin (from their marriage in 2942 TA until Prince Bilbo's decline and death in 3018 TA after his surrender of the One Ring). As is known, Prince Kili died immediately thereafter in the Final Goblin War before the Gates of Erebor, fighting at the side of King Fili. This letter, though personal in nature, contains one of the few written personal accounts we have for the reclaiming of Erebor by King Thorin I, Oakenshield. As such, it is an invaluable historical document. It may also be of interest to scholars who study other cultures, due to the extensive reflections on dwarven culture contained herein by one who was at the time unfamiliar with our ways. How this letter, which contains postal franking in the upper quadrant of the final sheet on the back and may therefore be presumed to have been delivered, found its way to the archives of Erebor is unknown to us. Gror has suggested that it was left here during the visit of Bartelbas Brandybuck and Fortescue Hornblower in 2944, a visit to Prince Bilbo which is extensively documented and well-known. While this provenance cannot be considered proven given our current knowledge, it is at least a plausible theory._

_The hand of the letter has been extensively authenticated by Scribes Gror and Frekun as belonging to Bilbo Baggins based on other surviving authenticated documents. The letter is written in the Westron letters in a clear, flowing hand, with Prince Bilbo's customary extended finials, decorative pointing and Sindarin-inspired flourishes. The fading patterns indicate that the ink used was the soot-based ink common to court documents of that time period, before the discovery and adoption of modern coal-tar derivative inks._

_The prurient content and observations of some of this letter may render it unsuitable for non-scholarly eyes, particularly those of impressionable dwarrowlings._

_Filed this 9th December, 25 4A_

_Khur, Chief Scribe of Erebor_

***

25 August, 2942 

Bartelbas Brandybuck  
#7 Eight Smial Row  
Lower Kittling, Edging Straits  
Buckland, THE SHIRE

My Dearest Barty,

I got your letter and the scandal I felt reading of your adventures in the Shire was, to be honest, practically nonexistent. You always were a complete trollop, and it's one of the many reasons I love you dearly. It sounds as though you have finally found a companion spirit in Fossy, and I am so, so glad. Of all hobbits, you deserve lasting happiness. I expect to be notified of any changes, especially positive ones! I eagerly await hearing that you and Fossy have set up house together, if he can stomach your collection of hideous teacups (and that's for your mockery of my doilies, you strumpet).

Since this was approximately the four hundredth letter in which you demanded (quite unreasonably, I might add) the scurrilous details of how I ended up married at all, let alone to a dwarf, I have finally taken pity on you and written you this ponderous tome to document exactly what went on. I also apologize for the four hundredth time that I left Hobbiton and the Shire without a proper goodbye, and for you thinking I was dead. I know you've forgiven me, but still... it does grieve me to have grieved you, even in passing. So there. Now, this story... The filthy bits are quite embarrassing, needless to say, so just as I keep your letters under lock and key (and some of them in a bucket of cold water) I expect the same courtesy, because if you spread this around I will find a way to make you pay, even from this far away. If you and Fossy settle down like a proper couple, you may let him read it on your third anniversary, and not a day before, for if he hasn't killed you by then, you'll be together til the end. But that's it for other eyes! Fear my wrath, you know how I can be when someone deserves it... but yes, my dear, you've waited long enough. Here, in all its glory and disgrace, is our story.

As the Green Lady Yavanna Kementari is my witness, I swear I never meant to fall in love with Kili son of Vili, of the Line of Durin.

It all started with Gandalf, of course... so much of the trouble that besets honest folk seems to! He was a friend of my mother's, you see, or at least he claimed to be, though a cold, queer sort of friend he must have been. Odd, really, thinking back on it; I never got a straight answer out of either of them as to exactly how they met, or became friends. It was just one of those curious things that made perfect sense to me in my childhood. Of course my mother would be friends with a wizard, isn't everyone's? Of course my mother would know the best place to get fireworks, or keep company with someone who was in turn friends (or at least on speaking terms) with elves and lords of Men and dwarves! She was my mother, and even her most bitter enemies were forced to acknowledge through gritted teeth that whatever Belladonna Baggins, nee Took, wanted, she could find a way to get, and get handily. She got my father, after all, and as I'm sure you've heard Bungo Baggins was chased by every girl in the Shire for his looks and his money and his sheer kindness of heart, a kindness proved by the glorious smial he built his Tookish wife-to-be when she said none of the ones for sale suited her. But I digress. So of course my lovely mother would know Gandalf, she just never quite got round to explaining how. Needless to say, asking him was less than useless. Expecting an answer to a direct question of the wizard on any subject, let alone a personal one, was as frustrating as trying to catch a minnow in a swaying bucket. So of course, when Gandalf appeared after twenty years, twenty years during which my parents died horribly and I was left bereft in an empty smial, does he express condolences? Does he apologize for being away during such heartbreak and turmoil? Of course not, and other than claiming to have been a friend of my mother's whenever convenient, she was never acknowledged again. So much for the so-called friendship of wizards.

So imagine it, my dear, there I sat, on the front steps of my own smial, having a pipe of Old Toby to welcome in the morning. It was a lovely day, clear and fresh, and the flowers were blooming and the birds were singing and it was one of those spring days that made you glad to be alive. It wasn't to last, though. Up strolled a giant of a Man in long grey robes (quite old... the man, not the robes, though they were far from new... well, you know what I mean!) Apparently he'd been wandering through Hobbiton without a care in the world, as though he didn't stick out like one of the great Eagles of the Mountains would a-sitting in the Party Tree! After reminding me of our acquaintance, he then proceeds to give me quite a bit of what old Hamfast Gamgee likes to call 'sass', tweaks my nose for getting irritated, and then invites me on an adventure. Friend of my mother or not, this was all just too much. Well, you can imagine, I'd never been on an adventure nor particularly wished to go, though I confess my mother's stories of elves and Rivendell had brought me much joy as a faunt. And before you start, you filthy creature - what I got up to in Buckland might have been scandalous, but it was hardly an adventure, so run right along with that! Yet and still, I was no longer that wide-eyed fauntling that hunted elves in the woods; I was a respectable hobbit (you hush), and as we all know respectable hobbits didn't do such things. So I bid him good day, and that was that... or so I thought. I invited him to tea, because... well to tell you the truth, I missed my mother, and seeing a friend of hers (even so poor and thoughtless a friend) was worth the trouble because it was the closest thing to having her there herself. Well, that was what I thought at the time, but had I known how much trouble would result, I should have nailed my lovely round door shut and fled to the Great Smial in Tuckborough for a month!

When tea-time came, instead of a wizard, my door was beset by dwarves. First one, then two, then more, they poured into the place, eating my food, drinking everything they could find... honestly, it was like they thought Bag End was a tavern or public house! The first time I laid eyes on Kili, he arrived with his brother Fili; if I remember correctly, they were the second to arrive after Balin and Dwalin. I won't be dramatic like a tavern storyteller and say 'I knew even then'; truly I find such conventions dreadfully tedious and overwrought, as I know you do as well, but still... I knew he was different somehow. Most of the dwarves had what the Shire calls 'strong features'; big, thrusting noses, large ears, heavy, square faces, strong brows. They were, for the most part, a stocky, almost blocky folk. Even Fili looked so, though his hair was an unusual radiant golden blond (yes, everywhere, and put those eyebrows down; I only know because we all bathed together when camping, you ridiculous strumpet). Kili was not any of those things, though. He was uncommonly slender, for a dwarf, with delicate features and no beard to speak of save a fine, short stubble, utterly ravishing eyebrows that swept upwards like wings, beautiful eyes as dark as sloes, and rich burnt-toast colored hair that flowed down to his shoulders... even when I first met him, I thought him uncommonly lovely for a dwarf (which was a true irony, because the dwarves considered him ugly, but I get ahead of myself). I remember noticing on that first encounter that he had no braids in his hair, unlike the others; dwarves are mad for braids, if you didn't know. Hair, beards, mustaches, even eyebrows... braids and beads and elaborate hairstyles are the thing, but Kili's hair was unbound and free. I found out why, but we shall get there presently. As if all that weren't enough, he had a smile that lit the room like the sun on a midsummer noon, kind and carefree. Even before I knew anything of him but his name, I felt that smile in my heart (yes I said heart, you wretched baggage!) At any rate, others came in until there were twelve dwarves sitting around, and that was a monstrous lot, even though Bag End is pretty roomy as you well know. But then Gandalf arrived with Thorin.

Thorin! Even though this is the story of Kili and me, Thorin had a gift for making any story about himself. He was the king, or that was all I knew at the time (though since I have been thoroughly schooled in the genealogies of the dwarves, heaven knows; they are even more fussy about such things than we are, if you can imagine). I found out that night that Fili was the heir to Thorin's throne, which made Kili a prince in his own right. Amazing, isn't it? Still... Thorin was imposing and majestic, thoroughly impressive. He was your type, no doubt about that (and don't look at the letter with that expression, it's rude - Fossy, if you've gotten to read this, you've been with him for three years so I know you aren't shocked; by now you know just how shameless Barty can be). And yes, I know you're saying 'but he's a dwarf' like it's something nasty, but I strongly suspect you'd have been chasing this one, dwarf or not. He had long flowing dark hair with streaks of silver, a jet-black beard shorter than any except Kili's, cornflower blue eyes that would have you baying like one of old Maggot's hounds, and an air of sorrowful majesty that hung around him like a cloak. He also had the voice of a naughty angel, deep and resonant and thrilling. I think I half fell for him at seeing him... and that lasted until he spoke to me. Barty, he was rude. And not charmingly rude like you, my dear, nor even unintentionally rude, like poor Griselda Hornblower, he was just... unbearably, tremendously, indescribably rude. Disdainful, even. He was a colossal ass and boor. Called me a grocer to my face, while standing on my own mat at that! Implied that I was helpless, useless, and utterly unable to do anything other than eat and sit about. Now I would remind you that I didn't want anything to do with these dwarves or their adventure in the first place. I certainly hadn't invited anyone but the blasted wizard round for tea, let alone an army of dwarves who oversaw the utter pillaging and despoliation of my pantries, but to come in my own smial and insult me to my face while his kin ate me out of house and home and drank my cellar dry about took the prize. Even more preposterous, Gandalf told them I was a burglar! As if I'd ever stolen anything in my life other than the virtue of some of the lads around the Shire! As the evening drew on they described the job they wanted me to do, stealing a historic treasure from a dragon, and that half a world away. I told them they could stay the night if they must, but that I had utterly no interest in going along, and went to bed; and as far as I was concerned that was the end of it. And truly it probably should have been.

As you know, that wasn't the end of it. In fact, that was barely the beginning.

I lay in bed and I thought about the stories they had told, of the dwarves being thrust out of their home in Erebor, and so many of them killed or maimed, and it just seemed so sad. Then I would remember the smiling, kind face of Kili and it made it real in a way that was different somehow. You know how things are, when you hear a sad story, and you think 'oh that's a pity', but then you meet the person it's about, and you think 'oh I can't bear this', even when it's the same story? It was a bit like that, and you know how I can't bear to see anyone suffer if I can do anything about it. So I spent the night flipping and flopping, and by the time the sun rose I had pretty much decided that I had to at least try to help. Well, when I went out to find them, they had already departed. So that was a fine pickle! I decide I'm going to help after all, expecting them to be appreciative (for I didn't know how unreasonable that expectation was at that point, not knowing anything about dwarves but the beards) and they've already up and gone! So there I was, running helter-skelter across Hobbiton like some sort of lunatic, waving the contract they had presumably left for me as a memento. They all acted shocked to see me, even 'mum's-supposed-dear-friend' Gandalf, but Kili smiled at me like the dawn and once again, that smile curled my toes. He and his brother and a very kind dwarf named Bofur helped me along those first few days as I figured out how much of a mess I had made for myself. I had left without packing properly; indeed there were times where I wondered that I hadn't forgotten my own feet, I left in such a hurry. When we stopped, they would help me down off my horse, tease me in a friendly way about how saddlesore I was, and talk to me about anything and everything. The other dwarves kept their distance, mostly, except Thorin who was bitter and vile every chance he could get. Honestly, I got a little caught up in trying to prove myself to him, and that was where one particular strand of trouble started, but more on that later. The only fly in the soup was that as we went along, Bofur started to get a little handsy.

At first I thought it was accidental. Bofur would come help me off my horse and his hands would slip a little further down than was generally acceptable, or pat me on the back and 'miss', but after only a few days of this groping I was starting to get more than a bit peeved. Now, before you get too incensed, Bofur was and is in most ways a very nice dwarf, and a merry companion as well, and I'm sure he will make someone a fine husband one day, but someone isn't me. Bofur and his brother and cousin (Bombur and Bifur, respectively) had come from the Blue Mountain settlement, the same place as Grar the smith we used to visit in Bywater, remember him? Bofur always wore this silly hat for some sentimental reason (it was a dreadful looking thing, too, worse than that hunting hat that Perky Bracegirdle used to wear). His family were miners, as was he, but he wanted to be a toymaker, and I have to say he carved wood beautifully. He had very clever hands, did Bofur (which came perilously close to getting him slapped). Fili was oblivious, but Kili saw what was going on and it seemed to bother him, but he didn't say anything. Finally I complained to Kili about the problem, since I thought of him as a friend. He said that he hadn't spoken up because he thought I might have welcomed Bofur's attentions, since the toymaker was so 'handsome'. Well you could have knocked me over with a feather, since to me poor Bofur was as plain as an unpainted wall, and I wasted no time in saying so. We went back and forth for a few minutes about what was meant by good looking, and Kili told me that he was well-aware that he himself was quite 'ugly'. I thought he was having me on, but then he started crying when I accused him of fishing for compliments. You know how I get with tears; just thinking about it makes me well up while writing this letter. So it turns out that this was Kili's great shame, and the others had actually told this ridiculously handsome young thing that he was ugly! Can you imagine? Who tells a boy that? Even poor little Hugo Proudfoot, bless his heart, we all told him he was perfectly normal looking even though he looked like a squashed toad, but here was someone who actually was amazingly good looking, and... well, you see the problem. Needless to say, such a thing wouldn't stand, so I up and told him in no uncertain terms that he was the best looking thing along on the trip even including his uncle, thank you very much, and I'd hear no more such talk! I stand by my statement too (and not just because we ended up married, so hush, and if you think I'm lying you can travel here and see for yourself!) He didn't believe me, but eventually he stopped arguing and I considered the matter settled. I vow to you on my hairy feet it didn't start as me setting out to tell him that I found him attractive, so get that thought out of your mind.

After that, things were a bit... well, not awkward, but different somehow. After my complaints about Bofur, Kili always managed to make sure he was there to help me off the horse, and unlike Bofur he was a perfect gentlehobbit (or dwarf, as the case may be). I hadn't really been thinking about him that way (fine, since you know me too well, I suppose I should be more honest... I had been trying very hard with intermittent success not to think about him that way) but I started to notice when he touched me or looked at me. Barty, I can't say enough about his hands. You know how I am for good hands, and this dwarf... Green Lady of the Fields, his hands are amazing. I could stare at them all day. It wasn't just hands, though. That glowing smile was always his most dangerous weapon, but now I started getting different looks, lingering ones that sat like far-off storms in those dark eyes. In spite of myself, I wondered if he was thinking about me more romantically and maybe wasn't averse to those thoughts. I was trying not to think about him as more than a friend, as I said, and between the looks and those Valar-kissed hands I wasn't sure how I was going to navigate the situation.

Speaking of situations... Bofur was still friendly, but he could tell that his attentions were being blocked, and he didn't seem very happy about that (though if he'd asked me what I thought about the whole thing, we could have resolved it like adults - if you don't know, dwarves can be very childish). He was practically hovering over me if he had the chance, which made me even more unsettled, so I was quickly getting the reputation of being nervous and twitchy (shut up, you beast). That made Kili even more attentive and protective, so there was a vicious cycle going on with me trapped in the middle. Thorin, of course, kept trying to exceed his previous record of being a royal ass and succeeding; it was a mark of how caught up I was in the Bofur and Kili situation that I didn't tell him off right and proper. Because I'd been spending so much time with them, Thorin seemed to include Fili and Kili in his general displeasure as well, so we spent days with him sniping and complaining and grousing about everything we did. That, combined with my aforementioned desire to prove myself to Thorin, almost led to a deadly situation. Fili and Kili were supposed to be keeping watch, but being brothers they were constantly bedeviling each other and spinning mischief out of thin air. One evening they realized that two of the ponies had gone missing, and when I came to talk to Kili (we even had a chaperone, his brother, so talking was all I had in mind, you disgusting baggage!) they talked me into trying to go steal back our ponies from the three trolls who had snatched them up.

Now let's think about this. A hobbit who has never been out of the Shire except a trip once to Bree is going to try to sneak into a troll camp with three full grown mountain trolls and steal back two ponies. It wasn't my finest hour. In my defense, both brothers did say that Thorin wouldn't know about it, and I got not one but two of those smiles from Kili along with a gentle touch on the back. Writing this down to you, I can only say that it wasn't as obvious to me in the moment how smitten I was, though looking at it on the page makes me roll my eyes. I'm sure yours are rolling like marbles caught in a mill right now, so let's all roll them together. Of course, I got captured immediately. Kili came barreling out of the darkness to save me, and things were touch and go for a while. I can honestly say that this was the first time that Gandalf did something useful, because he managed to break a giant boulder using magic, which let sunlight onto the trolls and turned them to stone. Having seen the real thing in their stony flesh, I can honestly say that we do the Harbottles a grave disservice by calling them trolls. You can't even begin to imagine how disgusting trolls actually are. Just thinking about it makes me want to bathe. Still, at the end of it, Thorin was livid. Rightly so, I must admit. He was furious at Kili, furious at Fili, and honestly the way he looked at me might have turned me to stone too. He even came out of the whole situation with a glorious elven sword, so you'd think he would be more appreciative but you would be wrong (I got an elven dagger to use as a weapon, remember that for later). After we had been thoroughly dressed down by Thorin, Dwalin and Balin (Dwalin as Thorin's chief bodyguard and Balin as Thorin's chief adviser - dwarf king, remember?) Fili went to get some breakfast for everyone and Kili and I were left alone. I thanked him for trying to save me and told him how brave he was and... there may have been kissing involved. Well, one kiss. One very amazing, gentle, sweet, never-knew-lips-could-be-so-soft kiss. I didn't start out with that in mind, it just sort of happened. I'm blushing as I write this, Barty. That kiss turned me completely inside out and wrong way round. I realized at that moment just how bad I had it for this handsome dwarf. Speaking of kisses - Kili has a deep indentation on his top lip, and I think it gives him secret powers of kissing that we hobbits don't understand. If you ever come meet him, take notice; if you end up carving one into Fossy's lip after you see it, I won't be held responsible, though I suppose some might say I was.

To say Kili was overwhelmed would be an understatement. I thought he was going to pass out when I kissed him (and no it wasn't my breath, you vile harpy); he told me later that he had never even been kissed before, other than in a friendly way by family; just thinking about that still makes me tear up. Even as the younger brother to the heir to the throne of Durin, he said that dwarves in Ered Luin would openly tell him that anyone claiming to be interested in him would only be looking for the title. I am forced to ask again - who would say such things to anyone? Some parts of dwarven culture are unacceptable to me, even now. He insisted that I mustn't feel the need to 'make over him out of pity', which just about led to me showing him in no uncertain terms how attractive I found him. I think that would have been justified, too; I halfway regret not doing it, despite Fili showing up at that point with food. Seeing his brother being thoroughly debauched might have done Fili some good, and it would have helped Kili twice as much. Once the food got there we ate, but Kili had switched at some point from looking over the moon to looking glum and I didn't know why. It took a day to find out, but when I did I was looking glum as well.

It seems that dwarves have very specific rules about things like kissing and courtship and the proper way to do things, and unlike the Shire, those rules don't change when it is two gentlemen involved. I know, I was just as shocked then as you doubtless are right now. Dwarves are astonishingly open-minded about the whole thing, and it's very common for two males to marry - since this discovery I have had more pleasant hours than I can count imagining the face of old Gerontius being asked to marry two gentleman hobbits, and now I gift that mental image to you. You're welcome. Back to the subject at hand, even more 'exciting' (in the Bree sense) is the fact that he's a prince - I did mention that, didn't I? - which makes the rules even more rigorous. First we would have to make a public announcement of courtship, then exchange beads, there would be a period of chaperonage (and you can imagine my thoughts on that), then we would exchange gifts to signify betrothal... my head was spinning. It's exhausting just to write about, imagine hearing all this after one snog! The crowning indignity of it all was that I would have to get permission to court him from the leader of his family before I could, as he put it, 'pursue anything serious'. The leader of his family being, of course, none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself, the surly and contentious leader of our little band of adventurers and king of a lost dwarven kingdom, and coincidentally the dwarf most likely to say I wasn't capable of standing up without pissing myself by mistake. It was at this point that I decided that my life had been cursed by a wicked spirit. 

Now Barty, don't get me wrong... I wasn't thinking about marriage at this point. Honestly, I wasn't thinking about much other than getting this lovely dwarf naked for a little fun-time exploration, though I certainly wasn't averse to some snogging and cuddling and long, meaningful chats. If he was a Shire lad, we could have had a normal runabout and seen how things were going, but all these rules were frankly a little off-putting. I tried to hint that perhaps we could give the whole thing a trial run, if you get my meaning, and see if we thought it was still worth buying the cake after we tasted it, but he was very insistent. Apparently if anyone were to ever suspect that such a thing had gone on, our reputations would be destroyed (I heard that vile comment even in Erebor, you hussy, and it wasn't funny) and we two would never be permitted to even speak again. So this was a bit of a jam. The next week or so was madness of a different sort, though, fights with orcs and crazy wizards (not Gandalf, another one) and visiting with the elves in Rivendell (which is perfectly magnificent, I tell you yet again, and you really must go and tell them Bilbo sent you, you will love Elrond and vice versa). But every night, for at least as much time as we could steal, we sat and talked and got to know each other. By the time we got to Rivendell, it was more personal sharing than chit-chat, and you know how bittersweet that can be.

Rivendell was amazing, as I keep telling you, but of course the dwarves were all put out by the fact that elves lived there. I've never been so embarrassed. To cap matters off, despite finally getting to spend a night in a house with furniture, Thorin got a bee up his bum and decided we were leaving first thing in the morning before sunrise, so off we trudged. I'm not ashamed to admit that by this point I was feeling deeply homesick and generally out of sorts. Despite my sense of bonding with Kili, Thorin was still looking at me like I was some sort of vermin, and I couldn't go forward with our courting without Thorin's permission. Furthermore, I had been away from bag End and even the Shire itself for weeks, I was headed in the wrong direction from home, and by now we were moving into the mountains themselves. We ended up trying to climb some pass that ended up being part of some sort of giant stone person's unmentionables (no, it didn't have one that I saw, so don't bother asking) and I almost fell off the ledge. As if I weren't miserable enough already, who else but Thorin saved me, and if that isn't the most embarrassed I've been since Fatty Bolger saved me from choking, I don't know when it would be. He then dressed me down again in front of everyone, told me I was out of my depth and wasting everyone's time, and stomped off. Even Kili was giving me a look like he worried about me, which was enough to make me tear up. He wasn't supposed to doubt me and it just felt like betrayal, especially since the only reason I was even there by that point was to see what Kili looked like under all those damned clothes. Alright, I felt that eyebrow go up, so fine... it wasn't the only reason, but it was a big one. Allow me to digress for a moment.

Barty - let's talk about clothes. You know as well as I do that clothes are meant to be both functional and lovely. A gentlehobbit needs, in order, smalls, shirt, trousers with or without braces, weskit, and a coat. A hat if we feel particularly daring or jaunty. Accessories. You were always a fashion plate, my dear, and it was one of the many things I admired about you (while at the same time deploring your utter lack of morals and your non-existent sense of shame). Dwarves have different ideas about clothing. I tell you truly, I have sliced onions with less layers than the average dwarf wears for daily use, let alone when going adventuring or going to war. From later experience unwrapping my dwarven gift, allow me to walk you through Kili's average daily wardrobe (and he was on the light side for our group, if you can imagine). Smalls, close trousers, undershirt, overtrousers, overshirt, gambeson, socks (cloth tubes that fit over their feet, no I don't know how they stand it, it gives me hives to think about it), fingerless cloth gloves, iron covered boots, leg armor, chest armor, shoulder armor, armored gloves, and a belt large enough to be considered its own garment. Fully half of the others also wore helmets, along with enough jewelry to look as though they had robbed a goldsmith's shop. So even if he were convinced to try me on for size, as it were, the chances of us getting from clothes to skin in a conducive amount of time were practically nonexistent. In fact, dwarves consider any skin below the throat to be scandalous if it is exposed, which is why they so closely resemble traveling hillocks of fabric and metal in daily life. At the same time, they think nothing of bathing in public, fully nude. If I live to be eleventy-one, I shall never understand some aspects of this fractious race of people I have married into, but there you are. And yes, you wicked goblin, this means that if you do come visit you can see half of Erebor parading around in the nude in the public baths. Now that I've written that and thought for a moment, I suppose I'll send a chamberlain to prepare a room for you, because you'll probably mail yourself back with the reply. But that's enough of that. Back to our story.

So I had lost my faith in the company and in Kili all in the same day. I'd been rained on, almost fallen off a cliff, been shouted at... it was the second-worst day of my life to that point (you know the worst, Barty, I miss them every day). We finally got to a cave and I just suddenly snapped; I'd truly had enough. I got up and started to leave, and I don't even know where I was going - I suppose just 'away'. I hope you haven't had a moment like that, my dear, but I suspect you have, when it's all just too much and you can't stay and you just want to run until your feet fall off. I was vaguely hoping that Kili would try to stop me, but of course he just stared at me with those puppy eyes that sliced me into tiny pieces; no, the one who decided to stop me was Bofur. He said some very sweet things to me and... I never expected to admit this, but this letter is supposed to be the whole story. I will confess a shameful thing to you, Barty. In that exact moment, I thought seriously about kissing him and asking his brother Bombur for permission to court out of spite. I wasn't ever attracted to him, but I was so hurt and so furious with Kili and his impossible uncle and life itself that it seemed like a thing to consider. If I'd been some of the people we know in common, I might even have done it, but I let the moment go by and take its vile thoughts with it, and good riddance to them. I'm not proud of thinking it, but I suppose I am proud of not acting on it. Bofur is nicer than that, and he deserves better despite being annoying. Of course at that precise moment we were all captured by goblins. No, I'm not being dramatic - it happened. I'll spare you the blow-by-blow, but the whole thing ended with us meeting up on the other side of the mountains somehow, days later (we got separated, don't ask).

No sooner had we reunited than we were being chased by wargs, which are a giant form of wolf that orcs ride like ponies. Pray you never see one. We ended up trapped in a tree by a white orc who had some sort of blood vendetta against Kili's family; Thorin was apparently the one who chopped off his arm (he had a blade for a hand), because the orc had killed Thorin's grandfather, who had done something else... it's all too long and complicated to go into, but suffice it to say that we were in a Bad Situation. Thorin, never willing to pass up a chance for a dramatic gesture, attacked the orc against all odds and promptly got knocked down and mauled. At this point, I can only plead temporary insanity, my dear; I went and saved him. Yes, that's correct. I, Bilbo Baggins, who was once chased onto the kitchen table by a field mouse, killed an orc and warg with my elven dagger. Kili just watched (or so I tease him, he actually ran down to help fight with everyone else). We were rescued by the Eagles (I promise you, I am not making this up) and ended up being dropped off on a giant boulder in the middle of the Anduin river (yes it was the Anduin, but no we weren't anywhere near Gondor, and isn't it funny how I know what questions you're going to ask before you ask them? You've only been obsessed with Gondor for thirty years!) Thorin stood up and started to berate me again, and I thought to myself, right, that's it, I'll stab him. Honestly, I was about to. Then it turned out that his speech was actually a long, drawn-out apology and compliment. I was so thrilled to finally have Thorin pleased with me, I can't even begin to tell you. Even better, I could see Kili's face over Thorin's shoulder, and my handsome lad lit up like I had just hung the sun and moon in the sky. It looked like I might have a way out of the mess I'd gotten into by trying to kiss a cute dwarf.

As we were climbing down the boulder, Bofur moped up to me and said something along the lines of 'well, I can't be upset, I could never offer you what he can'. I looked at him and smiled what I'm sure was quite an awkward grimace, because honestly, who says things like that? And how did he know that I was waiting for Thorin to change his mind about me and why? Fili just gave me a sad look, which I didn't understand. Dwalin and Balin both gave me warm smiles, and Dwalin even said 'he's a good dwarf'. If Dwalin thought Kili was a good anything, it was news to the both of us. I didn't have time to worry much, though, because I was too busy being terrified that everyone had been able to read my face so easily when I was looking at Kili. It was frankly horrifying, because I've always prided myself on keeping my thoughts off my face, and you've had plenty of experience with me to know I'm rather good at it, no matter what sort of madness is going on. How on earth were a group of dwarves who only knew me as a traveling companion able to read me so clearly? I was tired, but I didn't know I was so tired that I had become an open book! Thorin gave me a half-smile, and then brushed past me. I mentioned to him in passing that I'd like to talk to him about something, but he quickly moved on, almost as if he was avoiding me.

Of course, completely unbeknownst to me, that moment atop the boulder was the point when the rest of the party, with the exception of myself and Kili, decided that I had fallen in love with Thorin Oakenshield.

That afternoon, we camped beside the river. Everyone decided it was a perfect time for a bath. Now, I won't lie to you, my dear, these dwarves were getting a bit ripe. As was I, since cologne was one of the many somethings that I forgot to pack, an egregious oversight. I hadn't yet had the experience of the public baths, so when I describe my shock as these wandering haystacks of cloth and iron started to shed layers, words cannot properly do it justice. On the very positive side, I saw what was under all of Kili's gear. On the somewhat-to-very negative side, I got to see everyone else completely starkers as well. I will not lie to you - I saw things I had not expected. Remember when I told you that dwarves were built stocky and thick? Let's just say that proportionally, that is true all over, except that with some of them I feel that perhaps farm animals such as horses and mules got into the bloodline somehow. I still remember the stories you told about that woodcarver in Frogmorton, and I always thought you exaggerated the size of the 'device' he made, but Dwalin in particular could probably have matched it. Kili seemed to be an appropriate size for someone built larger than a hobbit without having something that replaced thoughts of hedonism and pleasure with thoughts of death by impalement and rupture (though I confess it grew even beyond my expectations once I met it properly, and you may sit and stew in that jealousy you are feeling right now, you decadent trollop). A number of them also seemed to feel that nature could be improved upon by metal bits piercing here and there, nipples and... other places. I know, I know, but if you are going to the baths in Erebor (and I know to expect you in the mountain now that I've told you about the baths) I'd prefer that you didn't faint when you get there.

Another area in which we differ from the dwarves is in the hairiness of bodies in general. We of course have the usual spots, and our feet. Dwarves seem to commonly have the same sort of fur we have on our feet on their chests and bellies, and some have even more than that. A few of the older dwarves had so much hair on their bodies they seemed to still be clothed even when naked; it is with the greatest degree of relief that I report that Kili was not that sort of dwarf, as I don't know how I would manage to deal with such a situation. He has a nice patch of fur across his chest, and a trail leading downwards to the fun places, but the rest of him looked smooth and somewhat hobbitish (though you wouldn't believe how small and hairless and delicate dwarven feet are outside their socks and boots! It's a ridiculous scandal to behold and you will absolutely develop a fetish for them as soon as you see them, you wicked thing... I certainly did). When he got that gorgeous long dark hair wet and it was hanging down around his face... well, let's just say it's a good thing I didn't disrobe with everyone else or there wouldn't be the slightest doubt as to what I thought about the view. If he had proper ears instead of rounded ones like a human, I think my poor, tattered pants would have given up the ghost on the spot from the sheer strain. Kili could be said to be too thin and is indeed far too muscular to be a Shire boy, but I have not a single complaint, I assure you of that. Queen of the Stars, those shoulders! I was practically drooling to see him without all that gear on, and the view was even better than I had expected. Wanting someone you can't touch is always a challenge, as you know at least as well as I, but being able to see all of it without being able to touch... well, let's say torture is a fair term to use.

Eventually I realized that they were all waiting for me to just fling my clothes off and jump in as well. I went off to bathe in some degree of privacy, because I am not a dwarf, thank you very much, and I had no desire to have my bits sharing a breeze with the whole company. Thorin seemed to want to show off, and was strutting around almost posing for me, which I found highly unnerving. For one thing, he had terrifying looking wounds from his fight that had stopped bleeding but which looked raw and angry. For another, he was quite a bit hairier than Kili, though certainly not to the Gloin level, and I didn't want to be ogling the uncle of the lad I was (by now) quite taken with. I still didn't know, of course, that everyone had decided I must be all hot and snorting for Thorin, so I just found it odd. Finally, I ducked off to a quiet pond and managed to not only wash myself but also my increasingly ragged, patched clothing. By the time I got back, everyone was dressed again, and Gandalf announced that the next day we could stay with someone he knew. Which was another of the few times that the wizard proved to be useful. That evening I stalked Thorin like a cat seeking a mouse, because after seeing what was under all that clothing, I knew not touching Kili was no longer an option.

Helpfulness and dwarves seem to be mutually exclusive, unfortunately. By the time I had asked just about everyone in camp where Thorin was, I was getting fairly out of sorts. They all grinned at me and gave me leering looks and were generally useless and ill-mannered, but I finally tracked him down on Balin's advice. I walked up to him, bowed, and told him that I had a matter I needed to speak about. He smiled, which seemed to bode well, but then went immediately into a long, rambling diatribe about how difficult it was to court members of the royal house, and how many rules there were, and how courting in a camp would be especially fraught because there was nowhere to forge a bead (which is a thing for dwarven courting). I thought at first he was trying to talk me out of courting Kili (which, good luck with that, especially after I had finally seen the lad starkers not five hours before and found out what I was missing!) Now all of this was very interesting, but once again I was confused as to how Thorin knew I was interested in courting a member of the royal house. So finally, after he had delivered a ten minute lecture about it, I came out and directly asked him. If I recall correctly, the exact wording was 'but Kili isn't in line for the throne right now, so why is it such a problem?'

Barty, that was the most awkward moment of my life. It was even worse than when Widow Bracegirdle caught me and Mungo buck naked under her window.

Thorin turned more colors than one of Gandalf's fireworks, pale and red and pale again. Of course, I was utterly flummoxed, because all he did was continue to ask me questions about what did I mean and why didn't I ask what I really wanted to know, and all I could do was keep asking why it was so much trouble to court a second prince who wasn't high in the succession and why did Thorin seem so confused about something he had been lecturing me about not five minutes prior? After we beat around the bush for a good five minutes, he finally realized that what 'everyone knew' wasn't actually accurate, and I honestly couldn't tell if he was infuriated or relieved. It seemed that he had been trying to let me down gently, but even though he didn't want me, it irritated him once he found out that I didn't want him! Isn't that just like a powerful man? See, Barty, I told you that you'd be lusting after him, because that's exactly your type and we both know it (Fossy, if you're getting to read this, by now you know it too, so boss him around a bit, would you?) When he realized it was Kili I wanted, though, he was shocked all over again, and started giving me a lot of poppycock about not having to 'settle' for someone like his nephew and that I could marry anyone I wanted once the dragon was dead and I was rich. He will never know how close he came to having his face slapped right off his thick skull that night, and failing his quest before ever seeing the mountain again. No wonder Kili had such thoughts about himself, if his own uncle would say such things to his suitor! Makes my blood boil to write it. I told him very sharply that just because he didn't recognize worth when he saw it, it didn't mean that I wouldn't, thank you very much, and I thought Kili was not only a wonderful person but terribly handsome as well. I went on to say that if I had his blessing for this courtship, then I needed nothing else. He wanted to argue, but he finally gave me his (grumbly) blessing. I felt very fierce and quite out of sorts, as I'm sure you would have. The nerve of the dwarf! But the chaos had only just begun, I'm afraid.

I went back to the campsite, ignoring the smirks and knowing eyes of all the others, and sat down next to my handsome lad. I told him 'Thorin gives his blessing', and Barty my dear, I would have fought every goblin in the Misty Mountains to get the look I got right then. He jumped up and whistled to get everyone's attention, which I wasn't expecting, and pulled me up to stand next to him. You could have heard a pin drop. He gave a very formal, nice little speech about how he was officially announcing that we were courting and we had the permission of the head of his house, it was all quite romantic. Unfortunately, the rest of those horrible dwarves acted like it was all a big joke (well, except for Balin and Dwalin, who seemed to feel like it was a betrayal, judging from their expressions). Bofur even yelled out something about why wasn't I with Thorin since that's who I wanted, and that was the final straw. Really, Barty, can you imagine? You know what came next, I'm sure, since you've known me forever. There was nothing for it; the only color I could see was red.

Kili probably hadn't realized until that point what he had gotten himself into with courting me (though you could have warned him, dear, it's a pity he didn't know you - though I would have tied your hands behind your back before I let you in a room with him, and probably gagged you as well, so now that I think on it you wouldn't have been much use to him). At any rate, that was the first time the group had truly seen me in a strop. I told everyone there off, starting with Bofur. I let them know in no uncertain terms just what I thought of how disgracefully they had all acted and how they had treated Kili so horribly, and even Fili was shamefaced by the time I got done. It's a good thing Thorin was still off somewhere brooding, because he would have gotten a good earful in there somewhere as well. Funny enough, as soon as Gandalf saw the look on my face when I came from my chat with Kili's uncle, he invented some sort of wizard business to go attend to in the forest and left at a gallop, so maybe he did know my mother after all - I will say that I threw a proper Belladonna Took fit that night, and was proud to have done so. Those wretched dwarves! Once I had calmed down, Kili set a braid in my hair and closed it with a special bead that he had made. Barty, he had forged a bead years before, only because he had dreamed of getting married one day, and he had carried it ever since even though he felt sure that nobody would ever want him. Doesn't that break your heart? It's so beautiful I can't believe he made it. It's made of silver, but it has sapphires and emeralds in it, along with a rose and arbutus carved into the metal. It's quite the most lovely, romantic thing anyone ever gave me. I touch and look at it a thousand times a day, and if Fossy doesn't get you something equally romantic, tell him I'll be highly disappointed in him.

Fili gave me a golden bead so that I might complete the process, though the symbols on it weren't as specific to courting. According to the rules it should have been a bead I made, but Fili was so excited that his brother was getting courted he was more than happy to give it to me. After my thorough verbal flaying of everyone present, I expect the other dwarves would have quietly accepted it if I had announced we would dance naked on top of a pile of skulls so there were no last minute objections to a gifted bead from any closet traditionalists. Remember when I told you about Kili's hair? Well, you wouldn't believe how sleek and smooth it is. Seriously, I expected it to be at least a bit coarse, but it's like the softest fluff imaginable; I have no idea how he keeps it so straight, but it was almost an erotic experience putting the first braid in that crown of gloriously soft, dark hair. It was after the braiding that Fili told me that he had thought all along that I would court Kili, and his sad look earlier was because he thought I had decided I preferred Thorin. Perhaps I shouldn't have done so, but I laughed in his face. I made it quite clear that I had the dwarf I wanted, and the kiss I gave Kili to demonstrate made Fili blush crimson to his hairline (Kili too). Of course at that Balin made a dry sort of 'hem hem' sound like Old Missus Chartleby, presumably because he took it upon himself to act as chaperone, the interfering old baggage. Bofur looked so sour I was tempted to do it again, only more graphically, but I restrained myself (and don't think that was the easiest thing of the journey, either).

Since Kili and I were properly courting now, I was now allowed to kiss him... though Balin made a little speech about how it ought to be 'proper, polite kissing' as though it were any of his business. I know you have accused me of all sorts of things (and I have returned the investment with interest), but no matter what scandalous actions I may or may not have taken in the past, I must tell you this. The restraint that it took to lie down in a chaste bedroll beside someone I wanted so badly my back teeth were burning may be my crowning achievement, beyond saving Thorin from Azog or riddling with a dragon or anything else. Kili was happy and that was what mattered, though truly I think he would have been happier if the evening hadn't been marred with strife and conflict. I felt bad for my part in it, but honestly... and I do ask you honestly, Bartelbas Brandybuck, for I would know: what else could I have done? I didn't have it in me to let their abuses pass, I couldn't bear it. For a group of such louts to make fun of someone who was so sweet, so caring, so innocent was intolerable... and yet doing what I did brought pain of its own. I don't know the right answer, and if you do, send it back by raven, for I truly want to know. That was the night that I finally realized I was head over heels for him. I couldn't imagine a life for myself without that dark-haired dwarf in it (and no, we hadn't done any more than kiss, but there's more to life than canoodling and it's time you found that out!) I decided that night, lying awake in my bedroll and listening to my dear Kili breathe beside me, I would do everything in my power to save him from the hurts of the world. If only it were that simple.

We spent a few days at Gandalf's friend Beorn's house, and I will gloss over the whole experience because you would swear I was making things up. At any rate, Kili and I swanned around the place talking and holding hands and stopping occasionally for kisses which were either respectable (if someone was watching) or enjoyable (if nobody was). I confess, my hands might have wandered a bit, but unlike my reaction to Bofur I don't think it was unwelcome, though Kili remained terrified that someone might see. Now by this point, I confess it, I was obsessed. I wasn't thinking clearly, because all I wanted was to get as much of me as physically possible next to what my hands assured me was nothing short of an amazing todger. Don't think less of me for being crude, please (as though your letters aren't in danger of spontaneous combustion with the things you say) but my mind state was precisely that crude at that point. I will omit the results of my explorations, but suffice it to say that everyone was a bit suspicious at the amount of his laundry that needed doing by the end of the visit. Luckily any evidence of misconduct was disguised by the same layers of cloth that made trying to grab a quick feel so challenging. Silver linings to dark clouds, you know.

Sadly, once we were on the road again the chances to go unobserved were nil. The first night we tried to go gather firewood, only to have Balin invite himself along; yes, you see how it was. By the time we got to Mirkwood, we were both thoroughly out of sorts, especially since we had been given just a taste of what privacy could mean at Beorn's and then had it snatched rudely away. Mirkwood was an appalling place and everything about it was miserable. Really, if you do travel here (and I hope you will), avoid Mirkwood at all costs. Go around, rent an Eagle, do something; it's horrid. I keep reminding myself we are supposed to call it 'Greenwood the Great' now instead of Mirkwood, but honestly, words cannot express how wretched I found it to be. There's no light, there's tons of insects and giant spiders and the elves are unfriendly and... well, that's enough, you get the picture. We were all grumpy and out of sorts on going in, but midway through we ended up captured by the elves and I had to sneak around the elf-king's palace for over a week before I could get the dwarves out again (yes, I can be very sneaky, you should know!) By the time we made our daring escape, masterminded by yours truly, things were in a bad way between Kili and me. I dreaded this part of the tale, but I promised you the whole story, so I will be honest though it doesn't paint me in the best light.

Kili and I were fighting because I was jealous.

That doesn't sound too bad when I put it on paper like that, but Barty... I was like a different hobbit by that point. I don't remember ever feeling like that in all my years. Now, before I start dwelling on my own feelings, let me tell you what happened and you can make up your own mind if I'm just being a silly old baggage. There was a female elf that took one look at Kili and... I'm sorry, let me start over. I hate crossing things out, but I will try again to be neutral. One of the elves, the captain of the guard where the dwarves were imprisoned, seemed to be drawn to Kili. He encouraged her in quite a forward and flirty fashion, one I wasn't used to seeing in my shy, innocent dwarf, but he later explained to me that he was only trying to talk her into either letting the party go or helping them escape. I cannot say for certain that this was not so; indeed, in his defense, his flirtations seemed to decrease markedly once he realized I was skulking around trying to break them all out. Was I happy about any of this? I was not. Did I happen to overhear quite a bit of this flirtatious talk? ... Perhaps. Fine, let me be clear - the very marrow of my bones was burning, I was so jealous. If she had laid even a hand on him... suffice it to say there would have been at least one body to dispose of. Luckily (for both of them) she stuck to pining looks. As it turned out, I did get them all out (though I threatened to leave him there with his new girlfriend, I blush to say) but by the time we washed up in Laketown (a settlement of Men, and a more dreary miserable place you couldn't imagine) I had apparently forgotten my promise to myself to help him avoid being hurt, because I said a number of things to him that make my ears droop to remember. I was very unkind with some of the words I used to refer to the elf, words which I need not repeat here. Ironically, at the same time Kili was being upset, the rest of the dwarves approved wholeheartedly of my behavior and the whole group began making things worse by individually and collectively congratulating Kili on finding 'a proper 'un', whatever that means, because apparently being so jealous you could kill is a very dwarven trait. Why Kili's happiness must always be the opposite of what this group wanted was, is, and shall remain a mystery of the ages. As if admitting my shame weren't enough, I must now confess that the chances Laketown presented me for privacy and enjoyable time spent alone with my handsome prince were wasted on brooding, sulking and accusing remarks. Honestly, Barty, sometimes it amazes me that he stayed with me. I'm not sure I would have done.

I've written before about all the unpleasantness with the dragon and the gold-sickness and Thorin (why was every problem with the journey always named Thorin?) so I will pass over all of that, noting only the irony that we all thought for the whole journey that the dragon was the worst problem we had to face. Though Kili and I had patched things up to some extent by the time Thorin tried to throw me off the walls, our relationship was hardly returned to blooming health. Seeing him look at me in shocked betrayal hurt worse than anything Thorin did to me. That look made me hope that I would be dropped, honestly. And afterwards... well, I was thinking seriously about returning to the Shire and just giving up, I suppose. I was at a low point, as bad as the year after they died, and you remember what that was like. I'd been away from home for almost a year by then, I'd seen the worst of most the regions in between the Shire and Erebor, and the dwarf that I loved (and yes, even then I still loved him, it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't) was trapped in a mountain with a lunatic for a king. I couldn't ask him to come with me and give up everything, because after all I couldn't bring him back to the Shire with me. Can you imagine the scandal? I was considering it, though, if I could find a way to spirit him through the rock; I'd deal with being cut dead in the street by all of Hobbiton if only I could see those sweet smiles again. Every day I spent alternately trying to force myself to leave or trying to think of a way to stay. It was unremittingly awful. Thinking about leaving tore the heart right out of my chest, but staying and knowing that he was so close and yet unreachable was just as bad. I don't think I ever told you this, but you were on my mind a lot during that time, Barty; I'd have given all the gold in that dragon's hoard for your advice and comfort right then. I know I'm a soppy old thing, but I really do love you, you know. You're the best friend a hobbit ever had. If I have one bit of advice from all this (and you know I do) it's this: don't get jealous, and for the love of the Green Lady, don't let your own temper stand between you and enjoying what you have, because you never know how long you will have it. 

The war (now they've taken to calling it the Battle of Five Armies, which I find incredibly pretentious) changed everything. Gandalf insisted that I mustn't fight, that I wasn't prepared, or trained, or anything, and he was right. I decided to sit it out safely, as was sensible (which dwarves emphatically are not, in case you've missed that somehow). I was content to do that until the walls fell from the gates of Erebor and the party, my dwarves, and my Kili most of all, ran out to fight. I didn't think it was possible to fight with tears in my eyes, but I did. I cried the whole time, and fought like a demon with my little elvish dagger until I could guard my handsome dwarf. I know it sounds like I'm being dramatic, but I mean it: I didn't want to live if he died. I couldn't face it. Somehow he didn't see me there, so I could protect him as I saw fit. I saved his life that day more times than he will know, but I couldn't be there to stop the blow that almost took him away from me. Seeing him fall into the mud on the battlefield was losing my parents all over again, Barty, and I'm crying like a madman sitting here writing it. I hate writing this down. I thought he was dead, and I just sat down on the field and waited to die. I figured my next job, if I got that far, was figuring out how to leave the Garden of Yavanna and storm the Halls of Aule to see him again, and I was ready. Something hit me in the head, and that was that. When I woke up on the battlefield... all I could think was 'no, not like this'. As awful as it is to say, I was quite ready to kill myself, but I noticed that his body was gone. My only thought was 'stay for the funeral, there's always time to die'. I remember thinking exactly that. When I stood up, a medic spotted me and they rushed me into a healer's tent. On the way, I found out from someone that despite my fears, somehow Kili was still alive. You can imagine how that went; the healer got naught of me but the sharp side of my tongue and I was off like a shot to his bedside. I hadn't even been there an hour when someone came and said Thorin was summoning me to attend on him right away. I cursed that dwarf king's name at that moment. This letter truly doesn't paint me in the best light, Barty, but I am trying to be unflinchingly honest. I hope you don't think less of me for it.

When I arrived, I understood the urgency. Thorin was dying. He forgave me, and I forgave him, he revoked my banishment and so forth. It was very touching in retrospect, and if I had it to do over I might be more eloquent, but truly all I wanted at that moment was to be by my prince's bed. I bid farewell to the King. Fili was going in as I was going out, so I knew that Kili wasn't going to be the next King (thank all the Valar, Maiar and anyone else for that). Fili seemed well enough, though lightly wounded, and was surprised to see me, but it wasn't Fili I wanted to see. 

I went back and sat by Kili's bed. He looked so small and broken on that big elven bed, but the healers said that he would survive. I crawled into the bed with him, curled up around him, and I would still be there if he hadn't woken up. I will never understand how dwarves can heal; Kili recovered faster from worse wounds than I had ever seen anyone do. Within a week, he was up and walking; within two, he was doing light work. During the whole time, I never left his side, and I told him I never would again. I didn't lie, either; I haven't. We were eventually married by his brother (and I'm not saying we didn't wait for the wedding night to properly celebrate, because that would be improper, but let's say that almost dying changed Kili's mind about how long was appropriate to wait for a lot of things). Since I'm sure you're dying of nosiness, I will assure you, it was worth the wait. Gloriously, amazingly, unbelievably worth the wait. (Fossy, if you're reading this and you've made it this far, I'm going to tell Barty all about it when he comes, so you'd better bring your high quality wares to the fair if you want to sell anything). Knowing that I can see that amazing body whenever I want, and most especially that I can touch it... that is a gift without measure. And since he has just come back into our rooms from court, I think I will go do some touching right now.

I love you dearly, you wretched hobbit, and you had better write me back and tell me everything about the Fossy situation, good bad and ugly. I await your next gossip rag with bated breath, and do be a dear and go pour bleach on Lobelia's tomatoes for me, there's a love. Give my best to everyone, and show this letter to no-one. I mean it.

Extravagant farewells and hugs to the best friend of my life,

Yrs. forever,

Bilbo


End file.
